That's When
by aemaeth
Summary: Heero comes out from whatever little dark corners he usually hides in and, following his friends' example, starts life all over again. But there is one last roadblock on the way to peace...songfic, 1xR, warnings: c.d.


Disclaimer: Gundam Wing not mine. *sniffle* The song belongs to The Proclaimers. I got my idea after listening to the CD for the fiftieth time. They're a Scottish band and any Americans out there *waves hi* might recognize them from the _Shrek_ soundtrack. _Warning:_ 1+R, angst, and character death. Don't blame me. It's not my song. 

           **That's When**

Streetlight, yellowing the room

Lifting up her features from the gloom

           She stood by the bedstand, hands poised delicately as if frozen in mid-action. Her mind had momentarily left her like a whisper on the wind, wandering off to hammer the latest statistics over her weary eyes and repeat diplomas' thoughtless yells in her ears. She was hardly twenty—it wasn't fair to assume that she could handle the workload of one twice her age and that much more experienced.

           But it was the path she had chosen. Her fingers twitched but did not move; she ran her tongue over dry lips as she shook her head against the day's abuse.

           The hotel had been an easy one to get into; even with all the Preventer guards that surrounded it, conspicuous to his eyes even in their street clothes. He'd gotten through much worse easily, even if much worse had not included the indomitable Sally Po marching circles around the entrance, a scowling Wufei in tow. This week's negotiations were important ones.

           Yes, he had gotten through worse. But years of soldier-ry had left him sick of it, sick to the point of literal illness, sick enough, at least, to have a lapse of sanity and leave Dr. J. He would take no more orders.

           Behind cold cobalt eyes, it was hard to tell what depths of thought went on in Heero's mind. Loneliness and solitude left much time—too much time—for reflection. If he did not dispatch enemies with such ease, he would not have so much time to think. If he were somehow less competent, if he were constantly on the run and on the chase, he would not have thought like he did. But there were always those desolate intervals between missions that could last minutes, hours, days—or weeks. Sometimes he would assign himself a mission to keep his mind busy; groceries, meticulous round after round of cleaning his apartment, it did not matter. Even homework from a school he might happen to be hiding out in was a welcome novocain for pain.

           But his life had become a pointless round after round of fighting that he not longer wished to fight—he hadn't wanted to for some time now. And always she was there in the media's eye for him to watch from the shadows, fighting just as hard as him for the same peace and doing so much better. Because she was making progress. And eventually his world became a pointless routine of nothingness, of going after criminals that didn't really pose any threat, because any real threats had been efficiently cut off at the source by _her._ After all these years, there was little for him to do. The others had moved on, moved past the fighting; they had long ago learned the lesson that he had refused to. 

           And now he waited in the shadows, dark eyes cool and nearly emotionless, though lacking in their usual resolute chill. The sudden flickering on off the endtable light as Relena's hands twitched out of inaction startled him sufficiently enough that when she noticed him in the no-longer-shadows in the same instant, his barriers had fallen momentarily down. She swallowed the instinctive yelp of surprise at finding someone standing there, knowing that it would bring Preventers swarming, and stood motionless as the man opposite her for several seconds that dragged on into eternity.  

Singsong, in the street below

Football song that everybody knows

           She was frightened by the hopeless look that passed fleetingly through his eyes before the defenses were back up and the eyes hard and blue again. It struck her as painfully ironic that here, he'd finally chosen to show himself again (as was so achingly rare) and the minute had passed mundane and empty. If she closed her eyes, it would be just the same as any other night, complete with the beeping of car horns and the ungainly screech of tires, the quiet humming of music and TV in the rooms below, and the unwelcome prospect of yet another night in a hard hotel bed. But there was something about Heero that permeated the very air, something lost and final, that made her pulse quicken as her eyes asked the unspoken question: was he just going to leave again? Was this just another ruse of diffident, fleeting affection that would be gone just as quickly as he would? 

           Heero didn't speak. But she understood anyway.

That's when he told her

           When he told her that he

           That he loved her and he

           And he'd love her all his life

           That's when he told her

           When he told her that he

           That he loved her

           And he'd love her all his life   

Bright lights, five years down the line

           Point to where their just born baby's crying

             
           Heero hovered in the doorway, hesitating to make his presence known. She was there, just as he had known she would be, slumped in the chair by the cradle, loose papers littering her lap and the floor around her. Life had not stopped or slowed down for her; even the birth of a child had not allowed her a hiatus from her duties. Or rather, she would have been allowed one, had she not felt that infuriating sense of responsibility. As if the world would end if she left work for just a few months. Which it very well might, but that was all beyond Heero's sense of justice, which was currently limited to protecting Relena—and the child. The shadows that flitted under her eyes were worrying, but the media never noticed them. He doubted anyone did but him.

           He crossed the room in a few brisk steps and scooped the baby up in his arms, cradling her with awkward warmth. Heero may have had taken Relena's

 place for the time being as the physical manifestation of her ideals while she stayed in the general vicinty of her home, but it was still Relena who reviewed and signed all the papers, Relena who wrote the speeches, Relena who told him point-for-point what must be said. Relena, who dragged herself out of the house day after day for social functions where her precense was required, Heero protectively at her side and the baby in her arms. Heero fielded the press conferences and oftentimes went to meetings in her place, faithfully pressing _her_ points across, even if he did not truly believe in the peace yet. Relena did everything else.

           The people were, for the moment, pleased enough with the situation. He was, after all, their saviour, the silent Gundam pilot of legend who had raised mystery in his absence and glared chilly at the eager press when he returned, which had only left them wanting to know more. Maybe someday soon they would grow tired of him, intriguing as he might be at present, and want their precious Dove back; and when that would happen, Relena would have to return. For the moment though, for the moment, Heero would go through hell and back if it kept her from overtaxing herself. He had proven when he had made his first appearance that he could get a point across with chilling accuracy, earning himself a lecture from his teacher. His methods may be different from Relena's passionate pleads, but they often worked just as well. 

           She insisted she was happy, though, and he had to believe her. He always believed her. And she did seem happy, as long as he daily promised to her that he'd stay. Heero never said much by way of words of affection; a soft promise every morning stood in their stead. 

           He crouched down and, with his free hand, gathered the papers into a pile, scooting Relena's limp form over on the overstuffed chair and sitting down on it himself, child in one arm and papers in the other. He was mostly through them when her eyes fluttered open sufficiently to look over first the now-sleeping baby and then up at his face, a frown puckering his brow as her read before he noticed her and smoothed his face over. With a fleeting, grateful smile she settled back into oblivious sleep.

He knows now, they are joined for good

           Life can never break them, nothing could

           That's when he told her

           When he told her that he

           That he loved her and he

           And he'd love her all his life

           That's when he told her

           When he told her that he

           That he loved her 

           And he'd love her all his life

           Thirty years passed like a sonic boom

           Sunlight floods into a different room

           To keep the peace….

           To protect his family…

           To keep his humanity…

           Heero would do anything. The peace had be bought with blood—much of it, too much of it, spilled by Heero himself—his family with incredible strength of will, one sensibility against another—and his humanity had been the most hard-won of all. To threaten it was too much. At one point he had said he never wanted to fight again; at another that he never wanted to kill again. "Who are you?" had once been answered by, "Me? I'm a killer." He had moved past that, slowly but surely. The gun he kept with him was more a habitual comfort than anything.

           And yet, at the very brink of achieving true peace, unbreakable peace, there it had been. The Threat. The terrible something that stood between Relena and her dream. One last boulder on the road to universal peace. One last flux of violence and terror; and each time, Heero had been there to put it down. And despite what he'd sworn to himself, he'd been pulled into the fighting one last time. One last time. He shuddered; the weeping pain of Relena was nearly too much to bear. She was so strong, her face as much a mask as his was. But he'd done it for her…

They both know they're saying goodbye too soon

           But there's no more time

           And that's when he told her

           When he told her that he

           That he loved her

           And he'd love her all his life

That's when he told her

           That he meant it

           When he'd said he'd love her

           And he'd love her all his life. 


End file.
